


1001 Arabian Nights

by aljohnson



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Deserts, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Post Season 3, Reunion Fic, Romance, all the crossovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-28
Updated: 2016-06-29
Packaged: 2018-07-10 20:15:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 8,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7004791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aljohnson/pseuds/aljohnson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>I recall when there were less than 100 fics in this fandom on this site. </i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>@sarahtoo posted the 1000th fic earlier tonight, and now, there is this: the 1001st Fic in this fandom, and a glorious (I hope) confection of fantasy, sand, and slightly hand-waved timelines...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Amended plans...

The steward bowed politely as he passed Jack Robinson a cup of tea. He preferred coffee, but they didn’t make it the way the Italians did, so Jack had settled for the tea, which they could make; quite adequately, and it was better than the station slop. Smiling, he nodded his head almost imperceptibly. The steward took this as his dismissal and withdrew. 

As Jack absent-mindedly stirred his tea he allowed his Zane Grey to flop open. The telegram was marking his progress through the novel. Carefully, he unfolded the delicate sheet of paper.

“ALIGHT AT SUEZ STOP PHRYNE”

After she had taken off from the airfield, her plans so hastily drawn, it had taken a month for them to hear from her at all, and the telegraph then had been even briefer: 

“IN LONDON STOP”

Jack had responded to that first message with a letter setting out his expected date of departure and his presumed date of arrival at Tilbury; weather and tides permitting. It would take him almost five weeks to reach her. More than one whole month of the precious six he had negotiated with the newest Chief Commissioner. The ‘unfortunate’ business with Fletcher and Sanderson was over; both condemned to hard labour for, in Jack’s opinion, not nearly long enough. The Chief had, Jack thought, been grateful to see him go. Calm needed to be restored to the Force. Jack was grateful to be out of it whilst the broom swept through. Again. 

They had been on board for almost three weeks. Suez lay some three days away now, and Jack had no clue what might await him there. Hopefully Phryne, he thought. She had not asked if he was coming, and he had not said that he was following her. But he hoped she had interpreted the details of his passage for the intention they were...


	2. Suez

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which, as bidden, Jack alights at Suez...

The passage up the Gulf of Suez had felt interminable. The waiting; stopping; restarting; speeding up; slowing down. The RMS Maloja was impeccably appointed, even in the Second Class Cabin which Jack occupied. But he still felt, or heard every adjustment of the rudder or firing of the engines. 

The first few nights it had reminded him, somewhat eerily, of the passage to Gallipoli. But as he became used to the space on board, the sense of freedom, and the distinct lack of an officer bawling at him, Jack had begun to relax. He had also begun to observe his fellow passengers. By his reckoning there were: two fraudsters; at least four couples he had seen who were engaged in extra-marital affairs (he shouldn’t judge, he felt); three couples on honeymoon, of which one bride was already pregnant, if the slight pallor of green about her face each morning was any sign; one member of the House Of Lords discreetly engaging in Offences Against the Person with his valet; an opera singer who was trying to avoid attention and merely succeeding in bringing it to herself, and a jewel thief. Jack had engaged in a quiet word with the Purser regarding the fraudsters and the probable thief, and there had, mercifully, been no cause for him to officially produce his credentials. All in all Jack was finding himself enjoying his first holiday in far, far too many years. 

And now they were docking at a speed which was so frustratingly slow that Jack was considering leaping the railing, suitcase in hand, and just swimming for the quay. Casting his eyes around the crowds lined along the dock edge, he furrowed his brow. There was no distinctive hat, no huge and no doubt hugely inappropriate fur. Was it too hot for fur? Jack had divested himself of his overcoat, and had gone so far as to roll it neatly into his suitcase with his other belongings. Neither was he wearing his trade mark suit. Instead, as he leant against the rail, still scanning the crowds, he was sporting casual slacks and a matching sports jacket. He was wearing a jumper, of course; a man had to have some standards, and it was cooling into winter here in the Northern Hemisphere. He had been booked all the way to Tilbury; still was, if she was not in fact here. London would mean two consecutive winters, with no summer to warm his skin. London, he thought, would be colder than France had been. Less mud, he hoped, no matter how much rain there might be; and considerably less death; although with Phryne around, that could not be taken for granted.

As he wondered just when she had become almost entirely ‘Phryne’ rather than ‘Miss Fisher’ in his mind, he caught a glimpse of a man in the crowds, clearly scanning the passengers leaning over the railing. The man was smart, well dressed and wearing a British Army Uniform. He was also staring directly at Jack, who stiffened and straightened up, almost instinctively. There was a small nod of heads, the two men acknowledging each other’s existence as the ship finally halted and the ropes moored it to the dock. 

“Lance Corporal Jack Robinson!” The man stated, offering his hand for a shake.

“Captain Lethbridge-Stewart!” Jack replied, shaking the other man’s hand enthusiastically.

“Please, Alastair. You made it then?” the Captain asked.

“I did, I did. Bloody close call at times. I’m glad you did.” Jack added as he continued to scan the people in the crowds. 

“Thanks. Dark days. She’s not here.”

“Oh? Oh.” Jack sighed. Of course. 

“I believe her exact words were; ‘Alastair, be a darling and go and collect a chap from the Maloja at Suez for me. Name of Jack Robinson, Australian. Have a feeling you might know him…’ So here I am, if I value my life, which I do.” Alastair smiled at Jack.

“Ah,” was Jack’s eventual response. 

“I’m afraid it’s another couple of hours, but the car’s just around the corner. Got much luggage?” Alastair continued. 

“Erm, just this,” said Jack, indicating his battered suitcase.

“Excellent, well come along. Phryne was awfully specific, and she might even have ventured down to breakfast by the time we get there.”

“Where, exactly, is ‘there’?” Jack asked, concerned he might be about to become stranded in a foreign country.

Alastair took Jack’s suitcase from him as he opened the passenger door of the car. One word slipped from his lips. “Cairo”.


	3. Cairo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jack becomes Phryne's guest...

It had been immensely pleasant to catch up with the Captain. Jack had also insisted on the informality of his first name; he had no particular wish to be reminded of the Great War. Whilst Jack had related much of his post-war life: his career progress; his involvement in the Police Strike of ’23; the unfortunate tale of his marriage failure; and his recent case successes, in particular the more unusual ones involving Miss Fisher (and she had reverted to ‘Miss Fisher’ in conversation, he noted), Alastair had been less forthcoming. He was married now; his wife had recently given birth to their son: Alistair, they had named him, in a subtle deviation from his own name. He had not talked about his work at all, and given where they found themselves, Jack had decided it was wisest not to ask. 

Alastair had parked the car in front of the elegant white building and ushered Jack inside. The door to the breakfast room had been gently pulled shut behind him, and, he now realised, Alastair had kept his suitcase. 

It was not quite a burnished throne, Jack thought, and he was quite definitely not Anthony, but he was very sure he was a strumpet’s fool. And he was fairly sure he no longer cared. The Chief knew why he had suddenly taken all his leave, and Jack thought that Collins had a good idea of why as well. Certainly, the way the younger man had stammered and blushed around him in the week before his departure was fairly conclusive evidence. 

And now, here was Phryne, sat reclining on a chaise in a stunningly well-appointed breakfast room of the British Embassy, a cup of tea and plate of toast placed on a small table beside her, looking for all the world as if she was indeed Cleopatra, and very much as if she belonged here; had always belonged here; and as if she was indeed about to hold court.

He wasn't sure how she did it really. She always looked so effortlessly at home in any situation. Jack was sweating, despite the early hour. The road had been very dusty, and the car very hot, and the dust had meant the windows had remained tightly shut once they were out of Suez and until they were will into Cairo itself. 

“Jack. You came!” exclaimed Phryne, uncurling herself from the chaise like a cat and rising to her feet. A smile broke across her face in a way she felt to be far too revealing. Jack Robinson was here! He had actually come! And he looked divine!

Jack was finding himself lost for words. Which was foolish, as he had been planning his opening gambit since the Maloja had departed Melbourne. But he had thought he had almost another two weeks in which to finalise what he would say. Something witty, he had been hoping for. Not standing here, looking and feeling like a fish out of water. She had surprised him; again. 

“Well I was just passing…” In the circumstances, Jack thought, it was bordering on humorous.

“Really?” replied Phryne, her lips tightening in an attempt to hide an amused grin.

“Yes, on my way to Tilbury, until I received a rather insistent telegram. And I thought, well, there’s a whole world to explore, isn't there?” He was faltering now; almost at ‘heart on the line’, or 'lacking confidence', both of which he had been hoping to avoid. 

Phryne surveyed him, as one might survey a particularly fine statue. His skin was slightly more tanned than when she had left him at the airfield; the result of time on deck, she presumed. He was wearing clothes that she had last seen when he was ‘being Archie Jones’. He had even swapped the fedora for the flat cap she had seen at Christmas in July, and was fiddling with it nervously with the tips of his fingers. In short, he looked delicious. Bruising her lip with her teeth, she moved towards him. 

“You came to see the Pyramids perhaps?” she asked, a light teasing tone to her voice. 

“I don’t know. Have you already been to them, and has there therefore been a murder which requires investigating?” Jack asked. He thought he was doing really rather well. 

“Have you had breakfast?” Phryne asked.

“Urm, er…?” the seeming change in conversational direction threw Jack completely. 

“Because you look, ravenous, Jack.” Phryne almost spat the words out as Jack realised they had both advanced towards each other. 

He could find nothing to say to that, merely swallowing in response.

“You came after me,” spoke Phryne, softly, fiddling with the lapels of Jack’s jacket. 

“Yes.” Replied Jack, cautiously reaching his hand out to lightly caress Phryne’s waist. 

“Well." Phryne paused. This felt familiar, in a way that excited her. "Now where were we...?”


	4. Breakfast at the Embassy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It has been a long time since that airfield...

“I believe, Miss Fisher, we were about here…”

Other words Jack was considering were lost as their lips finally met. He hesitated, expecting an interruption from somewhere, anywhere, however unlikely. One of the numerous Embassy staff perhaps? Or a hidden telephone? Or perhaps even her aunt – he wouldn’t put it past Mrs Stanley to be haunting them. But there was nothing. Just blissful peace, and each other. Jack pressed his lips back to Phryne’s, kissing her with all the passion he’d been storing up since that morning at the airfield.

God he really did kiss very, very well. She heard what she presumed to be his hat hit the chaise and suddenly his other hand was in her hair, anchoring her to him. Not that she was thinking of going anywhere anytime soon. The hand that had been gripping his lapel slipped inside his jacket and found a resting place at the bottom edge of his jumper. Her other hand found its way to his shoulder, gripping on almost as if for dear life. She responded with as much enthusiasm as Jack was showing. He was not the last man she had kissed; but he was the last one she had wanted to kiss again. 

After what felt like both an eternity, and a far, far too short period of time, their lips parted. They rested their foreheads together, both breathing deeply.

“I missed you Phryne.” Jack whispered.

“Oh good. I wouldn’t like to think you kissed like that when it was someone you saw every day.”

“I’d like to think I’d get to kiss you like that every day. At least for a little while.” Added Jack, wincing slightly at his words. He didn’t want to put any pressure on her; didn’t want her to think he was trying to clip her freedom in any way. 

“Hmm. Well let’s see how that goes. Have you had any breakfast?”

“Not particularly. The ship docked very early, and I spent at least the last hour on the deck, watching Suez get closer.”

“You should eat something Jack. We’re going to the Pyramids later. There’s some fascinating digs going on. Although you might have to change. Do you have anything more, flowing?”

“Erm, not really? And the Pyramids sound, well, intriguing. Are they far?”

“Just across the River, we can get Alastair to sort us out a car, if you don’t mind suffering my driving.”

“Given what I have witnessed on the road here this morning, Miss Fisher, I may find myself holding my tongue about your, erm, skills, for some time.” Jack inhaled. “Can I smell bacon?”

Phryne rolled her eyes. “Let’s have them bring some breakfast in. Ally!” Phryne shouted over Jack’s shoulder.

Cautiously, the door opened, and Alastair’s head appeared around the woodwork. “All good in here are we? Excellent? Jack, I’ve got the staff to put you in the room just along the corridor from Miss Fisher, and a late breakfast is just being whisked up.”

“Thank you.” Said Jack, bewildered by events.

“Ally darling, could you be a wonder and get someone to lend us a car? We’re going to see the Pyramids later, and Jack’s just absolutely insisted that I drive us.”


	5. Giza

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Egypt. Cairo. Giza. Pyramids. And a possibly unexpected assistant at the archaeological dig...

Wearing a white jacket and wide brimmed hat that had been lent to him by one of the many Embassy staff who seemed to be loitering around the expansive buildings, Jack stepped out of the passenger side of the pool car. The sight before him was truly stunning. 

The Great Pyramid at Giza rose above him, casting a shadow across a great expanse of the dusty valley. Immediately to his left was the Great Sphinx, rising from the sand and with people working on it still. In the near distance there were scores of people, clearly engaged in an archaeological dig. Jack offered his arm to Phryne as she opened her parasol and linked her arm through his. Something was off, and it took Jack a few moments to realise that she was shorter. He gazed down; she was wearing the boots she had worn when she was ‘directing’ her friend Raymond’s film. In fact, he thought she might be wearing almost the same outfit. She looked amazing. But then, she was Phryne Fisher; she always looked amazing. Good grief, Jack thought, he was allowing himself to become overly sentimental.

They had arrived at the edge of the dig. Rows of tents lined the edge of the huge hole, where people of a variety of nationalities were scurrying around, fetching and carrying, exclaiming excitedly every few minutes, or, mostly, on their hands and knees moving slowly across what was plainly ‘their’ designated square, the entire hole being marked by lines of string separating the large space into smaller units. 

“Ah, Miss Fisher!” a woman stood up from one of the squares, waving her trowel to gain attention. She was around the same age as Phryne, possibly, Jack thought. It was often difficult to tell with ladies. A part of his mind briefly considered that it was sometimes difficult to know how old Phryne was. She sometimes seemed much older than her paperwork suggested. Not that he’d looked of course. And not that he should ever consider discussing that with her. He had learnt some things from his marriage, he hoped.

“Hello,” Phryne called to the woman, enthusiastically, unwrapping herself from Jack. 

Carefully, the woman picked her way over to the pair. The two women embraced warmly. 

“Mrs Christie, may I introduce Jack Robinson, of the Victoria Police Force. Jack, this is Mrs Agatha Christie.”

“Mrs Christie? Really? Well, it’s an honour to meet you. I’ve read your book ‘The Man in The Brown Suit’. I enjoyed it immensely. Miss Beddingfield is quite a heroine.” Jack was impressed that he'd avoided being taken aback. He really needed to stop being surprised at who Phryne knew.

“Why Jack, are you spending time with women other than me?” Phryne exclaimed in a mock scandalised tone.

“Merely preparing myself for anything you might come up with, Miss Fisher.” Jack replied, tilting his head slightly to emphasise that he was joking with her. 

“And what do you do in the Victoria Police Force, Mr Robinson?” Agatha asked, observing the couple closely. 

“I’m just an Inspector.”

“He’s underselling himself. He’s a Senior Detective Inspector, and he’s quite brilliant. He runs the station he’s based at, and he’s cleaning up Melbourne. Which is more than can be said for most of the force.”

“Phryne!” Jack cautioned.

“Well you are, Jack.” 

“Miss Fisher is underselling the value of her assistance…”

“Even when I turn up uninvited at your crime scenes?”

“It’s true you create more paperwork, but you get to places I can’t, and find evidence by means that I couldn’t. So your barging into my crime scenes is generally worth it.”

Observing them, Agatha chuckled to herself. “I expect I will see you both at dinner this evening. If you’re interested, Mr Robinson, I suggest a wander through the ruins. All sorts of interesting antiquities to observe…”


	6. Digging for relics?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well I did use the tags 'epic snogging' and 'deserts'...

Jack was pinned against what he thought was the exterior wall of a tomb of some long dead Pharaoh. He didn’t mind nearly as much as he thought he should do; at least he wasn’t actually locked in a room with a mummy this time. And Phryne seemed remarkably fine about the whole, well, Egypt thing. Jack considered asking her if she really was fine, but then she’d stop kissing him quite so intensely, and he really did not want that to be the state of affairs. As far as Jack was concerned, they had spent a very, very large amount of time indeed NOT kissing, and they needed to redress the balance. 

Now that he had changed into looser clothing, Phryne found that Jackappeared to be much more relaxed than she had ever seen him before. Buttoned up Inspector Robinson would never allow himself to be pushed against a wall and kissed so thoroughly, but Jack, when you got him away from everything that held him in check, was, it seemed, very willing to indulge. She could not even be sure now, quite who had taken whose hand, and dragged them behind the monument. Perhaps he had pulled her to him, and pressed his own back against the sand coloured stones. His hands were certainly gripping her waist most tightly.

As the kissing continued, their desire grew. Jack found himself kissing his way along Phryne’s jawline and neck. She moaned and sighed as she pressed her hips against his, as she stood between his legs. Jack’s hand slid to Phryne’s bottom, his fingers brushing over the material of her jodhpurs. They really did hug her body magnificently. 

Pushing herself a little further against his hips, Phryne could not help but notice Jack’s developing interest. One of her hands roamed up Jack’s shirt, wondering whether he might allow her to free some of the buttons. 

His erection was obvious to him, and he presumed, given that he could feel the pressure of her hips, and pelvis, and thighs, that she could feel it too. He felt less embarrassed about that than he thought he might have. Somehow he felt more freedom here. He supposed it was because they were far away from anyone who might judge them, and their relationship. 

On the boat, Jack had been able to consider the possibility of them quite fully, and he had, he thought, finally reached an understanding of her point of view. The time for rational conversation was fast escaping them when Jack’s natural reserve kicked back in. He broke off his attentions to her ear lobe. “Phryne, we have to stop.”

“Why Jack? I want you. And I have compelling evidence that you want me.”

“I do Phryne, but not here, not like this. I would rather not spend my first night in your company in a cell having been arrested for Public Indecency.”

Phryne sighed. “Unfortunately, you make a valid point, Inspector. I presume your credentials carry less weight here than at home. Besides, sand gets everywhere if you’re not exceptionally careful, and no one wants chaffing.” She kissed him lightly on the cheek.

“But there is always tonight…” Jack added, deciding to ignore the ‘sand’ comment, as he released Phryne from his grip and took a moment to calm himself down. “But until then, I believe we should burn off some energy by examining these pyramids more closely…”


	7. Dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An intimate dinner at the Embassy for twelve (or is that Eleven?)...

Embassy dinners were superb, Jack decided. Even the ones that were just ‘a casual gathering’ as Phryne had termed it, for a mere twelve people.

As he now knew Mrs Christie, he had been placed next to her at dinner, where she had, quite plainly, pumped him for information regarding police procedures. It amused him to think that a version of himself might appear in one of her books one day. He wondered if he’d be able to tell it was him? She had also mentioned, in hushed tones, some quite worrying problems that digs in the area were experiencing with theft. Mostly it was mundane items, but just last week a tomb had been discovered open one morning, and some of the contents obviously missing. It was, luckily, a known tomb, and records were being checked as to exactly what had been taken, but suspicion and paranoia were rampant amongst the archaeological staff and the locals, leading to tension all round. Agatha had smiled though; hypothesising that it might all make a lovely short story for her little Belgian. Or perhaps a new Detective…?

The other guests at dinner were a mixed bunch: two others who were at the dig; the ambassador and his wife; Alastair and his wife; another army Captain and his wife; and finally a Dr John Smith. Jack had spent a few minutes with the affable Englishman, jesting with each other regarding the blandness of their respective names. 

“We could be anyone.” The Doctor said. 

“It does sometimes come in helpful though.” Jack replied. 

“Do you find people can’t quite describe your face?” The Doctor asked.

“I do! Which is very useful if you’re following a suspect. Phryne, Miss Fisher, says I can turn my head and look quite different.”

“My face does change… every so often…” The Doctor seemed to have drifted off in his mind.

Jack wasn’t sure what to say about that. The chap had mentioned that he had been a soldier when they had been talking earlier. Perhaps he had been through surgery for injuries? Some of Jack’s mates had said they barely recognised themselves in the mirror when they had been under the knife. From his own way of dealing with the conflict, Jack knew that the bloke probably didn’t want to talk about it. Instead he reached a hand out, grasping the other man by the shoulder, speaking quietly. “War’s a terrible thing. I took it bad myself, and it’s taken a hell of a long time, but I’m finding I’m finally at a point where I can face moving on from it.” The Doctor had smiled at that and muttered something about time being relative, which Jack supposed was true.

As she was leaving at the end of the evening, Agatha turned to him, shook his hand and said, “So, you’re slow but steady, and Miss Fisher, she acts rapidly on ideas? Well, well, well, if the pair of you don’t remind me of Tommy and Tuppence…”

Jack was a little disappointed: he’d been warming to the idea of being immortalised in fiction…


	8. A nightcap...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So where were we?  
> Oh yes: Jack has gone after Phryne, who ordered him off his ship in Suez. Jack was driven to Cairo by an old war comrade, who happens to be the father of The Brigadier from UNIT. The actual Brig (from popular TV show 'Doctor Who') is, in this timeline, a tiny baby, who has been mentioned in passing.  
> After some reunion snogging, Phryne and Jack have visited the pyramids, and the archaeological digs in that area, where Agatha Christie is helping out at one of the sites.  
> Phryne and Jack have just had a dinner for Twelve at the British Embassy, where they are staying. One of the other diners was Dr John Smith...  
> (And somewhere in there, there might have been a hint of a plot...)

“Isn’t she delightful?” Phryne asked, as she poured them each a glass of whisky in her rooms. "Mrs Christie, I mean."

“She is. I didn’t know she had an interest in all things Egyptian.”

“I think she has an interest in anything.”

“Which explains why the two of you get along so famously.” At the quizzical expression on her face, Jack continued speaking. “You have a natural sense of curiosity that means you want to know more about everything, and will try almost anything that presents itself as an opportunity.” 

“As I told you once before Jack, there’s a whole world out there.” Phryne settled herself next to him on the sofa. 

“There is,” Jack agreed, taking a sip from his whisky. “In the space of,” Jack glanced at his watch, “eighteen hours, I have met up with a chap I knew in the War, been introduced to a world famous author, and seen the Great Pyramid. What a day!”

“Hmm. And what was the highlight of your day?” Phryne asked, flirtatiously, placing her now empty glass on a convenient side-table. Honestly, these places always had so much furniture.

Jack paused, furrowing his brow as if the matter required consideration. He slowly sipped from his whisky, noting Phryne gazing at him intently. 

“Hmm, the highlight of my day?” his voice rumbled. He leaned to one side, placing the tumbler carefully on the floor. “Well the absolute highlight of my day was probably the breakfast. Absolutely superb after the food on-board the ship.”

Phryne hit him lightly with the back of her hand. Jack chuckled lightly, grabbing her hand and pulling her onto his lap. 

“No, no. I find I have reconsidered the matter Miss Fisher.” He said, stroking his hand around her waist. 

“And what have you decided?” Phryne asked, quieter than she had been aiming for.

“The highlight of my day, my week, my month in fact, was…”

Pulling her to him, Jack wrapped his arm across her back and kissed her deeply. 

“This. This was the best part of my day.” He said when they finally parted. 

“Well it was a good part of mine too, so that’s good to know.” Replied Phryne, grinding herself onto his lap.

“Phryne…”

“Jack…”

Jack slowed the movement of his fingers over Phryne’s waist. “Phryne, are you sure?”

“I am Jack. But if you’re not…” she moved to lift herself off his lap, and found Jack’s grip tightening slightly. Promising indeed…

“I am, very sure. Phryne.”

The way he pulled her head down and met her lips with his convinced Phryne that he was both sure and somewhat serious. Darling Jack, always so serious. But he had smiled a lot today, more, she thought, than in the entire time they had known each other. 

Phryne grasped his hand. “Jack, I know how much it must have taken for you to get on that boat. And I know I might have sounded flippant, or come across as joking with you, but you must know, I have never asked anyone else to come after me. To come with me. And you did. And here you are. And please don’t, ever, underestimate how pleased I am that you came.” She slid her hand inside his jacket, feeling the thumping of his heart in his chest. She kissed him, slowly, trying to articulate words she could never say.

“Phryne?” Jack spoke her name quietly, “Phryne, do you have your internal device?”

“I do Jack.”

“Oh good…”

“Jack?”

“Miss Fisher. As ravishing as that dress is…” He kissed her shoulder, and her neck, and trailed kisses along her jaw. “What it mostly is, is just lethal enough, and this is most definitely a much less lethal hour than others. And so, before the criminals of Cairo discover your presence in this city, and start killing each other with asp poison, or daggers, or any much more mundane weapon, I would like to take you to bed…”

“And conveniently Jack, it’s just there…” said Phryne, tipping her head towards the bed behind them.


	9. Bed - part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They're both a little cautious...

The five yards from the chaise to the bed were crossed in approximately half a second, as Jack swept Phryne up, causing her to giggle with surprise, before practically vaulting onto the bed, both of them still fully clothed. 

“Oh my word Jack, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you move so fast. And I’ve seen you running after criminals.” Phryne teased as Jack furiously removed his jacket, waistcoat and tie, flinging them in the direction of the floor. 

Jack kicked off his shoes in response, ignoring the clattering sound as the left shoe hit one of the many chest of drawers lying against the far wall. He raked his eyes over Phryne, and her magnificent dress, and pounced, attaching his mouth to her neck as his hands roamed everywhere. 

“Oh good God, Jack!” Phryne exclaimed, as he nuzzled a particularly sensitive spot behind her ear. 

Considering whether or not he was concerned about the possibility of Phryne being heard across the entire embassy grounds, Jack decided he really no longer cared. Alastair lived off the grounds, and he was the only other person Jack knew in the country. And at least if Miss Fisher, Phryne, was loud, well, at least he was getting a response. 

“Right, where are the fastenings for this dress? Because I’ve made what I thought was a very careful study, and I can’t work it out.” Jack pulled his mouth away from her jawline and decided to declare defeat. Every inch of Phryne that he’d been able to touch had been exquisite, and divine, and better than he had imagined. Or seen previously. And he had seen most of her previously. But he couldn’t figure out whether there were hidden buttons, or some other sort of fastening, or lacing, or perhaps even a zip. 

“And I thought you were a Senior Detective Inspector” purred Phryne, pushing Jack off her as she sat up. 

“I am. But this is not my area of expertise.” Jack wondered if she kept up this level of conversation during the act itself. He wouldn’t be entirely surprised. 

Phryne lifted an arm and rolled back a hem, revealing a series of hidden buttons. 

“I know ladies conceal things, but that’s ridiculous” Jack added. He was quite proud that he was managing to remain this level headed. He plunged forwards once more, freeing the buttons carefully. As he did, Phryne’s skin was revealed. It was about half way down the side seam that Jack realised he had not brushed his fingers over any lace, or silk, or in fact, any other material at all. “You’re not wearing any, erm…”

“Foundation garments?” What an oversight on my part Jack…”

“Not even any, erm… knickers?” Jack tried not to blush. He was a grown man, who had been married for sixteen years. He could say the word ‘knickers’ without the sky caving in. He hoped. 

As Jack extended his fingers under the material and stroked Phryne’s side, he felt her squirm away from him slightly. He stroked his fingers again. There was a definite squirm. 

“Phryne?” he questioned, “do you want me to stop?”

“No, no, it’s fine Jack.” Phryne said, her voice rising in pitch towards the end of his name. 

“That’s your voice when you’re,” Jack paused, and swallowed.

“When I’m what, Jack?”

“When you’re slightly trying to hide something from me.”

“I have a voice when I’m trying to hide something from you?” Phryne squirmed again as Jack freed the last of the buttons.

“You do. Are you sure about this? Because I can stop. If you don’t want to…”

“Don’t you dare stop now Jack Robinson” replied Phryne, sweeping her hand over his growing erection to reinforce the point. 

“And now you’re trying to distract me. Out with it Miss Fisher.”

“Fine. I’m, ever so slightly ticklish. That’s all” said Phryne, attempting to be dismissive.

“You’re ticklish?”

“Only sometimes. Only when… Only when I’m nervous…”

“Why are you nervous?”

“I don’t know! Because this somehow feels like a huge thing. Which is ridiculous, really.”

“Phryne…”

“Jack… I’ve wanted this for so long. And I think, a part of me, was so sure that it never would. And, what happens next? What are you expecting? Because I’m not one for convention Jack…”

Jack slid his hand from where it had come to rest on Phryne’s stomach, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her to him. He kissed her, softly. 

“I’m not asking you for anything, Phryne, other than honesty. If you wake up tomorrow, and decide that I’m not what you want, tell me, and I’ll go back to Suez and get on the first boat heading back to Australia.”

“Jack…”

“I am not trying to own you, or make you mine, or any of those other ridiculous things that people seem to think relationships should be about. I just want to be with you Phryne.”

“Well I guessed as much when you did actually follow me, Jack…” Phryne interrupted his speech.

“As a wise woman once told me, there’s a whole world out there, and I want to see some of it. With you.” He hesitated. This was the only thing he needed to ask. “And when I say I’m asking for honesty, what I would like, is for you to tell me about the others. Just so that I don’t misunderstand.”

“Jack…”

“Just, please Phryne. I am trying to understand your point of view. And I want to try. But I don’t have any experience of anything like this, so I don’t really know…”

“Jack…” she kissed the tip of his nose, desperate to get his attention. “Jack. I don’t know if I will want there to be anyone else. But of course I would tell you. And you must tell me. If you find yourself wanting a dalliance or if you decide that I’m not worth the bother anymore…”

“You are entirely worth the bother Phryne Fisher. And, I’m not sure I could… with anyone else. It’s not how I can… do things. But I think I understand your, approach…”

He found himself silenced by Phryne kissing him, deeply, intently, and for what felt like a very long time.


	10. Bed - part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phryne's a giggler...

Phryne rose from the bed, kicked her shoes off and shimmied out of the dress. There were, in fact, no knickers, or stockings. 

Jack swallowed, slowly. Phryne really was magnificent. The painting by Sarcelle had failed to do her justice. And he really had looked at it very closely that morning he’d found himself waking up in her bedroom. 

“Clothes off, Jack.” 

Jack plucked his socks from his feet, then pushed his braces from his shoulders and turned his attention to his shirt. It had been far too warm for a vest, and he paused slightly as he undid the final button and pushed the sleeves down his arms. 

Phryne stalked back to the bed, crawling onto the covers as Jack gingerly pushed the shirt onto the floor. 

“Don’t tell me you’re bottling out now Jack. I would hate to have to take matters into my own hands…” Phryne trailed a hand lightly down her sternum, floating her fingers across the edge of her breast before they continued to travel lower.

Jack threw himself forwards, bracing himself on his forearms as he ducked his mouth to kiss Phryne’s breast. Phryne paused the progress of her hand, smiling as Jack teased his tongue around her nipple. 

“I am absolutely not bottling out, as you put it, Phryne,” said Jack, the majority of his mouth still enveloping Phryne’s breast, “but, erm… are you turning the lamp off?”

“I wasn’t…oh Jack… I wasn’t planning on it. I much prefer to be able to see everything. There are two of those you know…”

“Very aware of that, thank you, Miss Fisher…” replied Jack, moving the attentions of his mouth to the other breast. His fingers lingered where his mouth had been, gently stroking the dampened pink bud. 

“Do you usually turn the lamp off?” Phryne asked, as Jack kissed his way down her body. 

“I don’t think I can claim with any authority that I ‘usually’ do anything.” Jack replied, pressing his lips to Phryne’s belly button.

Phryne thought about that, and their earlier conversation. “Oh…” was her quiet reply. 

Distraction, Jack decided, was the way to proceed. Shoving himself down the bed, Jack lifted Phryne’s leg over his shoulder. God, he was really, really out of practice at this. Hoping this was something Phryne liked, Jack tilted his head, kissing Phryne’s inner thigh, before rotating his head to kiss the other thigh. 

Jack seemed nervous. Not about this; about this he appeared surprisingly confident. As he pressed his lips to her, she tried not to buck with the sheer relief of finally having him buried between her thighs. 

 

“Oh, Jack, yes… just there.”

“Hmm…”

“Ohhhhh… Do that again?”

“Hmmmmmm…”

“Oh…God…Jack…Do. Not. Stop…”

“No… intention… of stopping.” Jack confirmed, as he slid a finger inside Phryne’s welcoming warmth. A second finger quickly joined the first. Then a third, as Jack continued his ministrations, listening to, and feeling, Phryne’s reactions, as her body shuddered and shook.

And once her climax started, it seemed to Phryne that the night could never be long enough.

 

 

The room went quiet, as Jack stayed where he was, his fingers stroking over Phryne’s smooth skin. 

“Get your trousers off, Jack.” Phryne said, reaching down to pull him up her body.

“You sure about that lamp?” he asked, nerves rising. She was so perfect. And if he could just be with her once, then he thought, actually, that he might be able to survive the inevitable rejection. If he could just be with her once…

“I want to be able to look at you, Jack.” Phryne stroked her fingers along Jack’s jawline. “Don’t you want to be able to look at me?”

“Yes, of course. Phryne…” Jack found his voice quietening as Phryne wrestled with the buttons on Jack’s trousers. “Phryne…”

“Inspector…”

Jack moved his hand, placing it on top of Phryne’s to halt her movement. “Phryne, please.”

“What is the problem Jack?”

“I have… there is…from the war…”

“Oh, is this about the shrapnel scars? Really Jack, they're not that bad. Certainly nothing to worry about.”

Jack looked confused. “What… How did you?... Oh god, you really did undress me…”

“The night you drank your way through half my spirit supply and my father’s nerve tonic? Of course I did Jack.”

“Oh God.”

“An unconscious, but very much alive man. And not likely to be dying. And no blood. Really Jack, I’ve undressed men under much more trying circumstances. I think I might have almost beaten my own record, but not quite…”

“Record?”

“I can strip a man of his clothes in under 45 seconds, Inspector. In a medical emergency, of course.”

“Forty-five seconds?”

“Every second is vital, Jack, in war. But you weren’t in the middle of a battle field, so I afforded myself slightly longer.”

“I’m fairly sure your bedroom counts as a battlefield.”

“Much less mortar fire. Now get these off Jack. I want you. And I can tell you want me.” Her fingers teased lower, brushing over the evidence of his arousal once more.

Nodding, Jack released Phryne’s hand and shucked his trousers and underwear down his legs. He threw them towards the floor and settled himself back between Phryne’s thighs. Automatically, his hand went towards his right hip, his fingers spreading to cover the scars. 

Phryne arched up, kissing Jack’s jawline softly. Her hands moved to his head and his back. As she massaged his scalp and carefully smoothed the fingers of her other hand down his back, she felt his hand shift from his hip, only to wiggle between them. The next thing she knew, he was kissing her with an intensity which caused her to abandon her movements and just focus on Jack. 

 

“You ready?” he asked, pausing his kiss. 

“Yes.” Phryne whispered. “Yes.” She was concerned that she might be pleading. Phryne Fisher did not plead. No matter who the man.

Trying very much to hold his nerve, Jack eased into Phryne. He freed his right hand from between them, and focused his gaze on Phryne. 

“All right?”

“Yes.”

“I’m not too heavy am I?”

“No it’s fine. But you do need to start moving.”

“Oh. Yes. Sorry.”

Phryne tried not to laugh. A small giggle treacherously emerged from her mouth. 

“Phryne?”

“Sorry Jack.”

“Something I did?” Jack asked, thrusting his hips as he manipulated his arm under Phryne’s lower back and ground her hips into his. 

“Sorry, sorry.” Said Phryne, the giggle threatening to multiply. 

“What’s so funny? Should I take this as a critique?” Jack wondered if the entire thing had changed that much that he was just getting it all totally wrong.

“No! You’re doing fine!” Phryne giggled once more as Jack thrust into her. “Oh god!” 

Well that was very definitely a positive comment, Jack thought. 

“God Jack, this is ridiculous.”

Jack stilled, inside her still. 

“Please don’t stop.”

“Phryne,” said Jack, deciding that an experimental thrust and twist couldn’t make matters worse, “why are you giggling?”

“I think it might be those nerves. This doesn't usually happen. I will be very displeased if you tell anyone about this.”

“So you're only giggling because it's me?... I don't think that's helpful... And I think you can be assured that this is not something I’d ever share. Even if this was going well.” He was still moving. How was he managing to carry off a conversation? His previous experiences had all been conducted in mostly silence, with the occasional grunt (his), or murmur (Rosie’s), and after the war always in the dark. 

“Jack, this is going well. I just, oh, I just can’t seem to stop laughing.” Phryne took a deep breath and shook.

“Oh god.” Jack exclaimed. He felt her whole body vibrate around him. 

“Jack?”

“Actually… it seems… the laughing is fine…” Jack smiled. This was probably the most ridiculous sexual encounter he’d experienced in his life. His mind floated out of his body for a moment, to consider his position. “But I suppose… sex… is a bit…silly really, isn’t it?”

“When you think about it Jack…oh…just there…just like that…yes, it is, an entirely ludicrous enterprise.”

“But fun?”

“Yes Jack. Lots of fun…Oh, god, yes, yes Jack!” Phryne cried out as Jack latched his mouth onto her breast as he continued to thrust. 

“PHRYNE!” Jack exclaimed, as he suddenly came. 

He lifted his head sheepishly as Phryne moved beneath him. In the back of his mind he observed that the giggling appeared to have stopped.

“Don’t stop Jack!” 

He could feel himself softening and shrinking within her. Adjusting himself Jack swapped himself for his fingers and thrust them within her. With his free hand he raised her leg, lifting it from the bed. With as much care as he could muster whilst Phryne continued to buck and squirm, he pressed the pad of his thumb to her and stroked gently. 

The second time she fell apart around him was even more spectacular than the first.


	11. Morning has broken...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Does Jack need to head back to Suez and get on the first boat back to Melbourne?

Light streaked through the chink in the curtain, rousing Jack from his sleep. Phryne’s outstretched hand and a leg were pinning him to the bed, which she had sprawled across in her sleep. Jack attempted to sit up and failed; Phryne was a dead weight. He kissed her shoulder before he dropped his head back onto the pillow in resignation. There were worse places to be trapped he supposed. He thought he could probably reach out a hand and trace her spine with his fingers. Experimentally he flexed his fingers and swept his hand over towards Phryne’s body. Her skin was even more gloriously delicate this close than he had thought it would be. He wondered what her plans for today were. Might they involve him? Might they involve spending some time in this bed before they ventured out? 

Jack mentally admonished himself. He hadn’t made love first thing in the morning, for, ohhh, he tried to do the maths, and stopped at 1920: there was no pleasure to be gained in dredging up those memories. And besides, he thought, maybe Phryne wouldn’t want to? He was quite sure she’d had more skilled lovers; lovers with more stamina; more invention and creativity; more of a clue of what the hell they were doing. Less of an inclination to make her giggle hysterically for no explainable reason. She’d made some very encouraging noises last night, but she might have been trying to be generous towards him. Which would be unlike her, he thought. But he did worry that he was about to become a footnote in one of the notebooks she used for her cases. He sighed, smoothing his hand around the curve of her buttock; her skin was so smooth and warm, he wanted to be able to be like this with her forever. Which was damned impractical, really. He had bills to pay, and a Station to run, when he eventually got home. His hand slid along the top of her leg. Would it be very rude to stroke her most intimate parts as she slept? Probably unforgivably so. His fingers swirled patterns absent-mindedly across the top of her legs, and the inside of her thigh. He restrained himself from just stretching out a finger and sweeping it over her.

She could hear him thinking. She could hear him worrying. She felt him lift his head from the pillow, and relaxed her muscles to ensure he could not flee from the bed. She tried not to sigh when he kissed her shoulder. The feel of his fingers trailing gently down her spine almost threatened to betray her state of wakefulness. It was some time since she had allowed a lover to remain overnight; some time since one had wanted to. She was fairly sure he didn’t fall into the same category as her other lovers. No; she knew he did not. She supposed that there were others who had brought her to climax quicker, or lasted longer before they climaxed themselves, or who had flipped her through half a dozen positions in one session. But none of them had known her as well as Jack; observed her as closely; noted immediately how she reacted to every kiss and caress. None of them had looked at her the way Jack Robinson looked at her. No-one else would have taken her inability to stop giggling quite so well, she thought. Mentally she admonished herself; she was not some flighty young thing who didn’t know what she was doing; she did not allow herself to become sentimental. A small part of her briefly wondered why not, before she was distracted back to more immediate thoughts by Jack’s hand caressing her bottom. Phryne enjoyed making love in the mornings; it was often astonishing how easily she could achieve a climax in that hyper-relaxed state before the world became busy. She wondered if she could persuade him to stay in bed today. She had no fixed plans; nothing that could not wait. They had all the time in the world. Well, until he had to go back to work, she presumed. His hand was doing quite delightful things at the top of her leg. She thought she felt the tip of his fingers grazing over her before retreating; she could feel his hesitation and tension as she pinned him to the bed. 

She smiled as she shuffled her hips, ensuring he had no option but to brush his fingers over her still damp lips. Purring, she felt the spark deep within herself as her body responded. “Good Morning Jack,” she murmured, releasing some of her weight from him.

“Miss Fisher,” Jack rumbled, his voice even deeper than she had expected. She felt herself dampen further; god she hoped he did not have a ridiculous noble standpoint about sex only being for the night-time. 

Noting that Phryne had shifted her hips towards him, and now appeared to be positively encouraging his fingers to explore her more deeply, Jack decided it had been a bloody long time since 1920, and he had a lot of lazy mornings to catch up on…


End file.
